


Simulacrum

by Grimmseye



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Chipped!Entrapta, F/M, My over-analysis of Entrapta's body language and mannerisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: “I don’t understand why you keep running from the light.” Entrapta’s face is puzzled, like he’s a string of code she can’t quite parse. The glow in her eyes mars that look, taking out all the wonder that should be there. Then realization dawns on her face with a gasp and a delighted little laugh and she says, “Oh! I know! It’s because you’re a defect.”
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 184





	Simulacrum

**Author's Note:**

> I rewrote this literally three times. In the first two I tried to explain the situation more, but decided that ruined the pacing. So! I do not have a set sequence of events for what happened, just enjoy the story as is <3

People tend to discount Entrapta. This is what Entrapta herself told him, though in not so simple words. It’s a picture painted through stories, late-night insecurities come to light that he wishes he could pry away. She’s the princess without a Runestone, considered powerless, considered reckless, needing to be  _ handled.  _ Everyone who’s made that mistake has suffered for it, and that includes Hordak. 

So when the lights go out, he braces.

Catra alone taught him how to handle this, the moments of blindness before his vision adjusts to the dark. Once he’s there, his eyes are sharper than any etherian’s, but the contrast between the sterile lights of the ship and the sudden oblivion is too sudden. He stoops low, balancing his weight to spring, holds his breath and just _listens._

There’s the hiss of fiber against metal. One ear flicks up. Entrapta will  _ always  _ come from above, and when he hears the rapid drag of her hair, he leaps. 

He hits the ground in a somersault, the walkway rattling against the impact as she landed. It  _ has  _ to be her. Hordak blinks, growling as he wills his eyes to adapt. He needs to see her. 

“Entrapta!” 

The call echoes. Breaths heave into his chest as he pushes himself upwards, ears rotating to catch any shift of movement. There’s only silence — she’s gone still. She  _ knows  _ him, that was what made her so dangerous. If she had truly betrayed him, she would have destroyed him. Believing he could survive her betrayal had been his first mistake.

He calls out again,  _ “Entrapta.”  _ This time it’s desperate, his voice cracks around her name. He only wants to see her. He wants to hold her, and beg her forgiveness, and take her somewhere far away from the mess he’s made. 

A laugh trickles into his ears. His breath catches, warmth blooming in his chest. The sound reverberates, impossible to pinpoint as she giggles with the same delight as deploying a new robot for its first run.  _ He  _ is the subject of her experiment this time. It’s terrifying, but he aches to hear her joy.

As his vision adapts, shapes begin to form: the walkway he stands on, the steep drop below, the door so far away. That doesn’t matter. He won’t be running. Hordak turns, his gaze scanning the room: the walls, the ceiling, below the bridge. As he rotates to put his back to the exit, he sees it — a length of hair reaching down from the cables far above, wrapping around the stair railing. Then another, on its other side, bracing to take Entrapta’s weight and lower her down. 

A chill drips down his back. She comes down slow, a spider to the fly. Everything about her is  _ wrong.  _ The sideways tilt to her head, the jagged smile, the bright green eyes looking as though the lenses of one of her masks had been inserted into the sockets. Her clothing is too neat, fitted close to her body, not so much as a stain on the pristine white suit. 

_ “Hordak,”  _ she breathes, and she sounds so  _ happy.  _ Her arms spread out around her, as though an offer to an embrace, stepping forward towards him. “I knew you’d come back for me.” 

His heart leaps, a spark of hope. “I did,” he murmurs. “How could I not?” He moves towards her, eager to greet her. If anyone could resist Prime’s influence, of course it would be her. Brave and stubborn and brilliant — he offers his hands and wants to sink to his knees when she takes them in her own, bare instead of gloved. They slide out of his grip, and he only has a moment to grieve the loss before her arms wrap around his torso as Entrapta hugs herself against him.

His knees do give out, then, Hordak gasping as he clutches her close, an arm around her waist and a hand burying in her hair. He sinks down, Entrapta supporting his weight with tendrils of her hair, fingers combing through the crest atop his head as he buries his face in her shoulder. “You have more faith than I ever did,” he rasps, shame in his voice. 

“Of course I do,” Entrapta soothes. “We can all find faith in Horde Prime’s light.” 

Something brushes the inside of a port. Hordak gasps and tears himself away. He lands supine, pushing himself up to see her poised above him, hair braided into sharp spikes. One of them had been a moment away from plunging into his port, would have pierced through his spine and come out the sternum. 

“Entrapta,” he gasps, shuffling backwards as she advances on him.  _ “Please.  _ I am sorry — I didn’t know — I  _ should  _ have, I never should have doubted you.” 

“That’s okay,” she sing-songs. Her smile never leaves. “Everybody does. Everyone doubts me. Everyone leaves me.” Her smile falters for just a moment, grief shining through. And then it is gone, and she is wearing that too-peaceful smile, not excited or awed, just calm satisfaction. “But here? I finally have a place to stay.” She gets on her knees, her hair snaking out, wrapping around Hordak’s ankles, his shins, dragging him forward. 

She hovers over him, one hand pinning his to the walkway, the other caressing his face. Hordak could break her grip. The armor the rebels built him was nowhere near Entrapta’s capability, but it’s enough. He could wrench free of the delicate hold on his wrist and rip claws through her hair. He  _ could.  _ But Hordak remains in place, drawing sharp breaths through his nose. 

“I don’t understand why you keep running from the light.” Entrapta’s face is puzzled, like he’s a string of code she can’t quite parse. The glow in her eyes mars that look, taking out all the wonder that should be there. Then realization dawns on her face with a gasp and a delighted little laugh and she says, “Oh! I know! It’s because you’re a defect.”

He flinches. Entrapta makes a hushing nose, thumb stroking over his cheek. It isn’t her. This isn’t how she touches him. Her hair is for delicacy, stroking the cheek or weighing on the shoulder. When she uses her hands there is nothing so  _ soft,  _ she grabs him and she doesn’t let go, holding tight and pouring her heart into it like she pours her heart into  _ everything, everyone,  _ giving far more of herself than she should and yet he’s too greedy for her to put a stop to it. 

And this isn’t Entrapta, petting his cheek with a pitying smile. “But that’s okay,” she breathes. “We can fix you. We can make you beautiful again.” 

“I do not need to be fixed.” The words aren’t Hordak’s own. He is only repeating what she’d told him over and over and over again, patiently waiting for it to stick. “And imperfections are beautiful. Aren’t they, Entrapta?” 

She blinks. Her eyebrows furrow, lips parting. And then she shudders, face screwing up as she grips his wrist tight enough to hurt, as small as she is compared to him she’s still  _ strong.  _

A moment passes, and the tension bleeds out of her. Circuitry crawls down from her left eye. “It’s those words that show just how defective you are.”

It  _ aches.  _ He knows, with more certainty than he has known  _ anything,  _ that Entrapta would never speak these words. Hearing them still hurts, more than if he’d just let her stab through his port to begin with. Why she hadn’t done so now, when she had him pinned, willingly helpless.

Hordak presses up against her grip. He’s faintly surprised when she lets up, frees her grasp and lets him her hand in his own. He laces their fingers together, holding tight, careful to not so much as scrape her skin with his claws. “I am only telling you what you told me,” he murmurs, looking past the glow in her eyes and praying that she can hear him. “Imperfections are beautiful. Mine, and yours.  _ You  _ are beautiful, Entrapta.”

The circuitry crawls lower, framing her jaw, now. “I am beautiful, yes,” she nods, but it’s stiff. “We are all made radiant in Horde Prime’s light.” The fingers that had been tracing his cheek become a hand pressing flush, holding his face. Entrapta leans down lower, letting go of his hand to support her own weight. Her forehead leans down against Hordak’s, green piercing red. “You could be, too. You can come back. Why would you ever leave?”

Her voice cracks. The smile falters. A lock of hair scoops up in a maneuver he’s memorized, seeking a mask that she isn’t wearing. 

Hordak lifts his hand, settling it in her hair, at the back of her head. He strokes down, to the soft strands at the base of the skull, down lower, to where a chip sits cold against her neck.

“I left because of you.” 

One claw pierces into the chip. Entrapta’s eyes widen, her face contorting in pain. He feels the electricity dance off her skin and nip his own, only a second before the light fades. He sees her eyes, gorgeous magenta, before they roll up and she slumps on top of him. 

Hordak pants. He clutches her close, a sob working out of his throat. There isn’t time. He has her, and that is enough for now. 

He gathers her up, holding her against his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. A hand comes up, tapping the earpiece that the rebellion archer had given him. “I have Entrapta,” he reports, and is unable to keep the tremble out of his voice. “Returning to the ship now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thought it was time to write Hordak's angsty devotion. Please let me know what you think! <3


End file.
